The Aemorniel and the Dutchman
by ArinJayFinde
Summary: Once Bilbo and Frodo embark upon their eternal adventure, they meet up with some old friends and some new, unexpected company in the form of a black ship captained by Legolas's twin. Just kidding. The two crews begin a search for adventure and immortality, taking them through two worlds and two points of view.
1. Prologue

The pale Elven ship cut a straight, smooth line away from the shore, churning the sea into a creamy wake. Cool air filled the starry sails and pressed them into hard curves, fast as an arrow. Across the water the setting sun filled the horizon and Bilbo had the curious sensation that they were chasing it—just him and Frodo in a little craft following the West.

Frodo stood at the stern, for now, watching the receding shore. Behind them was everything they'd ever known, on any of their adventures.

But it was time.

Frodo gazed out at land one more time before turning forward. The hobbit had tears sparking in his eyes, however dry they had been upon embarking.

Bilbo affectionately patted him on the shoulder. "Don't worry, Frodo," he said. "You'll see them again."

"But how?" Frodo looked down at his uncle. "They're there and I'm… well, I don't know exactly where I'll be."

"It doesn't matter," Bilbo said. "If two paths are meant to intertwine, I have found that they do."

With those words, he walked to the prow and resumed his vigil over the setting sun.


	2. Chapter 1

**Will (Dutchman)**

There's an eerie feeling in the air tonight. At the prow, Elizabeth at my arm, I feel watched. She doesn't seem to notice, rocking easily with the movement of the ship and watching the water ahead. I can't stop scanning the sky. It's black.

It's always black.

Calypso is below, and I can vaguely hear her chanting. It's been three weeks since she brought me Elizabeth, and I still haven't repaid the favor. Davy Jones's soul wouldn't lurk on my route. We all know it, but we also know that for another ten years, there's nothing I can do about it. Elizabeth and I, of all people, can appreciate what she's going through.

"Will?"

I look down slightly. Elizabeth is looking up. "Mm?"

"You seem… pensive."

I shrug. She knows me too well, but still I try to avoid her pry. "I'm sailing through a sea of souls," I say. "How do all these people die?"

She laughs. "Badly. You don't have to talk to me."

"Something feels different."

"What?"

"I don't know." My thumb rubs circles over the imprint on my pistol. No mortal weapons can help me here, but it's habit to wear it and the heaviness at my hip still comforts me.

"Will."

"Hmm."

"No, Will, look. The parallel!"

I look up and see the sky descending in the familiar fashion—but we're not halfway through the route. _Damn._

"Get the wheel! Keep her on course! Expect obstacles!" I push her toward the wheelhouse and she breaks into a run, kicking the wooden stay out of place and maneuvering around the confused soul-boats. I don't watch, but run below.

"Calypso!" I shout.

She's already on the stairs. "This strangeness is not my doing."

"Tell me what to do."

"You are the captain, William Turner," she says. She presses on my arm and brushes past me onto the deck.

I pound up after her, to find complete pandemonium.

The sky's normalized itself—that's not the present danger. The problem is the lithe, white ship pulled up alongside. It's not bound, but it stays steady and it stays close. No guns. Unmanned save four figures, two tall and two short enough to be children. One of them, a tall, graceful man with long blonde hair and a lithe figure clad in royal-looking green silk, is speaking to Elizabeth, who stands with her feet apart and her thumbs in her belt, aggressive.

I cross the deck and stand beside her.

"Who are you?" I demand.

The blonde man focuses on me, and suddenly I feel as though those icy-blue eyes are reading my soul. He touches his hand to his forehead in a graceful gesture and replies in an accented voice, with authority: "Nányē Legolas of the Greenwood. Who are you and what language do you speak?"

The strange word gives me pause, but I say, "I'm Captain William Turner of the Flying Dutchman. The common tongue is fine. From where do you hail?"

"From Rivendell," Legolas says. "Yourself?"

"I live these seas," I say. "And I defend them. What is your business here?"

"Purely accidental," he says. His voice is calm, though mine is not. "I fear we were simply in the wrong place at the wrong time."

His hand is at his thigh, brushing along a strap, and I'm willing to bet there's a dagger hidden there. He seems the type. I see the hilts of knives at his back and the curved bow across his chest. No guns. I have no idea where Rivendell is, but it's behind in the times.

But the way he stands. Whatever his weapons are, I bet he can use them.

My hand strays toward my pistol.

He sees my movement and the corners of his mouth flick up, although his eyes remain flat and trained on mine. "Let's try to settle this peacefully."

"You're intruding."

"I'm telling you, it…"

I look behind Legolas, where a fat, extremely short old man is laboring up the white deck toward him. He stands close to Legolas and faces me as well.

"…Was an accident. It was an accident. Although, what an intriguing place this is."

I meet Legolas's eyes again and flick my eyebrow up.

"Bilbo Baggins," he says, by way of introduction.

"This blonde animal wasn't even supposed to be on my ship," Bilbo grouched. "He can be so blunt in negotiation, but you should see his interactions with dwarves. What a polar creature."

"Dwarves," I say.

"And what are you?" Bilbo asks. He looks up at Legolas. "He looks like a man."

"Of course I'm a man."

"And what are you, if not men?" Elizabeth asks.

Legolas turns his piercing gaze on her, and instantly I feel a wave of resentment toward him. He's the kind of man a woman like Elizabeth could fall for, I can already tell. I know she won't, but under different circumstances…

"I am Elvinkind, and this here being is a hobbit."

She snorts. "And the other one, he's a snarfle? What about the one in the rigging? Gobbledygook?"

I hadn't noticed the one in the rigging. Looking up, I see someone of normal proportion and hairstyle—he looks like a man, anyway. The fourth character shares many characteristics with Bilbo, the hubbot.

"A hobbit and a man," Legolas says. "Meet Frodo and Aragorn."

The man—Aragorn—jumps to the deck. "Elen síla lumenn' omentielvo, Captain Turner," he says, repeating Legolas's hand gesture. "My pleasure to meet you, Captain Turner."

Frodo nods in my direction. "Greetings, Master Turner."

I'm a bit lost for words until Calypso steps forward. "And this is Calypso, Sea Goddess."

She nods as regally as she can with the dreadlocks. Legolas doesn't seem deterred, however, and bows to her.

"How do we get out of here?" Legolas asks.

I laugh. "You can't. Not for ten years. The portal doesn't open every day."

"So we're stuck here."

"Yes."

Elizabeth turns to me. "They'll never last on their own."

I shoot her a sharp look. As civil as Legolas is, I don't trust him. And I don't trust his intentions, toward her or me. But she's right.

"If we could just trail you—we don't have to come aboard or link the ships. But maybe you can help us, and we can help you." Aragorn's speech is soft and sounds different from Legolas's clipped tones.

"How do you know we need help?" I ask.

"We do," Calypso says.

I turn to her. "Can they…"

But I get no further. In her hand, she holds Jack's compass. And the arrow, straight as I'm guessing Legolas can shoot his, points straight at the elf and his strange, white ship.


End file.
